


She Of Ocean Stars

by zesp



Series: Courting Fate [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-14
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-07 12:36:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3173910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zesp/pseuds/zesp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imperial Princess Feferi Peixes has made a life for herself on her own estate, with her faithful maid at her side helping things run smoothly. Away from imperial intrigue a Court is held to promote ideas and knowledge, with trolls and humans flocking to collaborate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She Of Ocean Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WigglyBoi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WigglyBoi/gifts).



     At the far end of the dining hall there stood no raised dais, no trappings of power reserved solely for she who would hold the fate of others gracefully on strong shoulders. The low tables, festooned with bright cloths and glittering lamps, weren't even long and thin and in neat rows to remind those seated they were supplicants in line to admire their majesty. Instead the tables were scattered about haphazardly like circular islands, plump pillows offering splayed seating to those who gathered under tall windows – a concession made for comfort, and in deference to the human visitors who often flocked to Court. Not the most official name, oh no, but still suitable for polite company. It was suitable and better, it suited those who came to Court, instead of her mother’s The Court, to court minds and wits, color and art and grandeur on a different scale than The Court could offer. No raised golden dais, but clear glazed glass shone through the windows of the hall, and its passing light struck glass instruments and probes, brassy metals and glimmering gears, automatons that flew and darted from table to lap to shoulder.

     This Court was not just in the salon hosted by its Princess, but ranged from dining hall to bedrooms to long corridors, to mews and stable-yards, to the kitchen and the kennel. Maids cleaned up after spills of oil and sulfur, and those of the scullery knew how to cleanse vials and flasks, collected from stations set up at various locations on Court’s compounds. Even so, most proprietors of such things were under expectations to handle their own tidying of materials and tools.

     This Court held no dais, nor a throne room, gilded or otherwise, and did not physically elevate its Princess above her peers and friends. It did not have to, when it existed solely because she willed it into being.

 

 

     Aradia moved past the servants wheeling in trays of the heavy breakfast foods preferred by their princess and walked across plush carpets to briskly yank open the heavy drapes. Sunlight streamed through in an unwanted rush, judging by the unhappy groan that came from the bed situated to face said windows.  
“So, can blankets talk now or are you awake?” she called towards the mound in the bedclothes. If she squinted a little, she could make out tiny signs of reluctant movement. Anything less and she’d have to pester Sollux into lending her some of his specially ground magnifying lenses to better bring the slight quivers into view. She waited a beat while more maids readied the room for the day ahead – putting the correspondence that had arrived overnight on a delicately carved filigree table, another opening the large glass windows that led out onto a balcony overlooking a bay, while the two who juggled breakfast neatly arranged their cart and a small collapsible table near the mound of pillows and plaited hair. Aradia waited another moment before stepping her way past the clothier setting out possible outfits on a chaise, moving up to the head of the bed next to the cart and mercilessly yanking the covers off one of the two imperial princesses.

     The other princess she’d not treat in such a manner, but then that was her sister’s bound duty, just as hers was forever tied to one Imperial Highness Feferi Peixes. And sometimes bound duty called for yanking away down coverlets and giving the royal butt a good swift kick to get it in gear for the day.  
“I’m up, I’m up, you can stop- ow, let me go you fucking brute!” yelped Feferi as she scrambled to a sitting position, reluctantly aided by Aradia hauling her upright by the facial fins. She batted away Aradia’s hands with a frown and brushed heavy hair back from her face. Aradia frowned back, more at the state of Fef’s hair than the glare she was on the receiving end of. As usual it had sprung free of the nightly plait around her horns, leaving behind a nest of tangles and knots that Feferi would insist on combing out herself, at her own pace. It wasn’t as bad as herown hair would get at times, something they both giggled about when they caught each other with bedhead. She let it go and instead reached for the carafe of imported coffee the maids had left arranged on the tray, and poured out Feferi’s morning dosage of caffeine. Steady hands added fresh cream and lumps of sugar before handing the china cup to the still-drowsy princess.

     “You might be up but you’re kinda not awake,” she said as Feferi took a grateful sip.

  
     “Same as every other morning,” she replied without heat and made a motion for the tray of scones. Aradia propped herself up on the bed as she handed it over, and the maid who had been waiting nearby with a packet of letters presented them to her before curtsying and exiting the room, leaving them alone with the morning and steaming fresh food. “Anything interesting arrive today?” she asked before tearing into her scone and washing it down with coffee.

     Aradia propped her legs up and arranged her gown before shuffling through the envelopes and setting them into piles of importance. “Your mom sent one, we’ll have to reply to that and get it out before tonight comes,” she noted, seeing the imperial seal and setting it in its own pile. “Ooh, Jade’s sent mail!”

     Feferi sat up straight at last, last of her sleepiness forgotten in a rush of happy squealing that almost upset her tray of scones “Fuck the others and forget about sorting, open the damn thing!”

  
     “I’m opening it, shut up!” Aradia shot back happily as she broke the waxen seal and eagerly scanned the loopy scrawl within. The joy of getting a letter from their dear friend was only magnified by its contents. “She says she’s coming back to Court in a week’s time, and wants to know if you still have that glass vial set she brought last time or if someone broke it yet.”

     Bouncing intensified as Feferi made her way to the edge of the bed and leaped out to happily spin around in nothing but her long hair, billowing down to her knees and the main plaits whipping as she gained speed. “Of course we still have it! If she’s offering to bring another though… hell yeah, we need it. Every alchemist who uses it here wants it. Humans sure are weird, but they make the best glassware. And at least our humans are the interesting weird.”

  
     Aradia smiled at that and lounged further into the soft covers. She could almost see the pun as if Feferi had spelled it out, shoooooore. Whether the princess intended it or not, those around her could never tell if she made puns on purpose or simply drilled it into their heads to find their own in her otherwise innocent sentences.  
Personally, she suspected it was a mixture of both.

     “Most of the rest seem to be from some of the nobility at The Court. Think they’re still trying to butter you up before Meenah gets sworn in as Imperial Princess Designate?” she asked the still-spinning Feferi. Miraculously she had yet to get dizzy, as had happened the other times she had decided to go on a spinning spree before finishing her breakfast.

     Feferi gave a very un-Imperial snort at that, fins flaring out as though she hadn’t been schooled in composure since she was a wiggler. “I’ll just have to give them the same answer I give anyone who thinks they have to ask,” she replied, stopping her spinning at last and only stumbling a little. Once she was satisfied she wasn’t about to tip over she made her way back to Aradia and grabbed at the slices of fried oinkbeast on the tray. “Anyone,” she said around mouthfuls of crispy meat, “who asks for permission instead of just showing up with their latest projects will be told no, they can’t join us. I don’t see exactly what’s so hard to understand about that!”

     “One way to keep out the stuffy riffraff, and you just know Eridan’s happy to chase out any other breed of asshole.”  
Feferi beamed sweetly, meat caught between her sharp teeth. “Exactly!”

     A knock came at the door, preceding the clothier sweeping in. Kanaya Maryam, seamstress and stylist to the Imperial Princess, was not of the rank one usually expected of a royal clothier. Nor was Aradia, with the lofty title that she never used, though in her own case she had been schooled in her duties just as Feferi had been schooled in politics and navigating a sea of courtiers. So long as Feferi was satisfied, her duties were fulfilled.

  
     “Good morning, Princess,” said Kanaya. “Once you finish eating let’s get you prepared, yes? I am given to understand that at The Court, grease is not considered haute couture, so it’s for the best if you were to finish your meal in order to avoid an application of the substance on your bodice.”

     Feferi snorted again, with less flare than before, before turning on her heel and heading to sit at her vanity stool. She found her floss and teeth-wipes and quickly made her mouth to rights again while Aradia finished sorting the piles of correspondence on the bed. She would be the one to write most of the replies, and maybe half of the letters Feferi would deign to sign in her own hand. The one with the large tyrian seal, she left for Fef to handle, placing it neatly by itself on a small table adjacent to the vanity. She gathered the trays and cups neatly from breakfast for the normal maids to collect once the cleaning crew came through, and left the pair behind squabbling about which kirtle to use that day as she went off to see about arranging the day’s agenda.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     “And THEN I told him, if he wasn’t gonna give up the goods, he better explain that to me instead of her, right?” said the blue blood as the table launched into laughter. Vriska drained her mug of cordial and wiped the dregs on her sleeve with a grin as she slipped food from her plate to one of the nearby cats with a grin. The kennel mistress Nepeta perched on a table nearby, where her moirail patiently ignored the affections of his beloved’s personal hunting-cat, Narknon, while tinkering on a clock that needed fixing.

     Aradia made her way through carefully tended chaos, between the tables of the dining hall, taking in snatches of conversation scattered across the bright and cheery tables, or at times the equally bright and cheery floor itself. While ostensibly for eating the hall had the best lighting and most room to maneuver of anyplace on the princess’s estate, making it the preferred location for those involved in pursuits with physical results. The parlors and such were the designated domain of whichever poets and singers and musicians chose to dwell within.

     All in all the system had evolved well, functioning not like clockwork but instead moving and adapting to the needs of its inhabitants, temporary or otherwise. Servants brought meals to those who requested it, while the kitchen kept light snacks on hand for those who wished to stick to lighter fare. This system was maintained until the evening meal when tables were cleared for a requisite amount of time in order for factions to meet and drink and boast of the day’s accomplishments, sometimes shown to each other between bites and sips. Experiments of an edible nature were banned unless first tested by no less than three willing volunteers, and a day in advance at that, before Court could flock to the strange new culinary offerings.

     It would not do to go without caution even if your demeanor was relaxed, so Aradia kept an eye on herself and those around her as she attentively picked her way past cushions and legs, and drank in the comforting hum of her Court on her way to her princess’s side. The table occupied by Feferi today was stripped of ornament save a canvas cloth dyed with spilled splotches of old dye, washed but still present and proudly declaring themselves a lost cause.

     “Not working with acids today, I see,” she commented brightly as she sunk to one of the plump cushions and fussed with her skirts. The blonde human sitting next to her turned to help, artfully arranging them and giving a glowing smile as she spoke up in a delightful husky voice.

     “I do believe that the objective of today’s distillations is to render an attar from flowers and obtain the peak color and scent for this particular bloom,” she explained with a tilted chin towards Feferi oh-so-carefully adjusting the flame of the lamp and jotting down the resulting change in the purple goo in a small cache of notes. Aradia caught the scent as the heat intensified and laughed again.

     “You bullied her into making you some perfume, Rose? You know that asking nicely could get you places one of these days.”

     Feferi again leaned away from the flask with goopy rose petals, carefully balanced over almost but not quite bubbling water, and shoved her tyrian-tinted lenses from her eyes. Jade had been insistent upon strict safety measures upon their initial meetings, in the first season she, Rose, and Dirk had visited Court, the fist season that Court had existed, and she now wore her rosey shades every time she worked at being a chemist or alchemist, on a long string of pink pearls.

     “It’s not like humans can get the right tints in things the way we trolls can and Rose needs new ink! I mean, even if their blood was the right consistency” – (“and of course you would know SO MUCH about the consistency of human blood,” Dirk deadpanned) – “there’s the whole, blah blah bright fucking red thing to deal with,” she explained with seeming to need to take a breath. “The Twilight Eve subspecies of rose goes right down to near-purple though, when it’s rendered! I just need to figure out the beeeeeest way to go to lavender from here and then what binding to hold together the pigments but come on, binders are the simplest shit out there!”

     “I was thinking that it could have other uses, say, cosmetics? Perhaps simply melding the attar with lanolin would work best as a general base, to give color to cheeks?” asked Rose as she lounged against Dirk companionably. Her eyes were ringed in kohl today, making them glow against her tawny skin and the gray of her Emissary robes. Dirk was cut from the same cloth, with the same high cheekbones and broad shoulders and wiry build. His hair was paler and unlike his cousin freckles dotted his face and arms. “Lanolin after all is an exquisite substance for complexions and keeping skin smooth. I’m afraid the details of the lip tint is beyond me.”

     Dirk spoke up then, from his position facing away from the table.

     “Emissary to the Elder Gods Lalonde here wants to look like she’s killed a man before she eats her daily souls for breakfast,” he noted dryly. Rose made her eyes go wide and shocked at that, hands moving to her mouth and setting her wide sleeves sliding up arms.

     “Oh, no! We Emissaries would never eat souls for breakfast, oh dear. We needs must reap them in the morning, fresh with dew, and then let them age properly for consumption.” Here she reached out fast as a flash to flick Dirk’s bangs with two fingers. “Souls are therefore strictly a supper dish for the initiated.”

     “What, they can’t even keep till the next morning? That seems like an awful waste. Think of all the time you could save by preparing a breakfast the day ahead!” teased Aradia.

     “Trust me,” replied Rose in the very image of solemnity, “They spoil. And nothing starts a day off worse than dealing with a spoiled, rotten soul.”

     Aradia had to let loose her laughter then as Feferi immediately began theatrical pouting.

     “Don’t you say it!” she said menacingly. The rippling of the fins on her face betrayed the fact that she was doing her best to keep from a whoop of laughter.

     “Can I not think it at least, O most royal Imperial Highness, She of Ocean Stars, Wise One, Keeper of the Emissaries?” sighed Aradia.

     “You seem to have forgotten Sagacious Serendipity,” Rose commented.

     “Precious August Pearl?” Dirk called over his shoulder.

     Feferi was saved from further jokes by her attar bursting into flame.

     “ShitshitshishitshitshitshisHIT!” she yelped and glared at it. The flame and the lamp both immediately went out, without so much as a wisp of smoke to betray the fact, and she slumped a bit before focusing her attention to the palm of her right hand. Slowly, then faster, forming out of a dense mist, a small inkwell appeared in her palm.

     “Sorry Rose, I guess I need to not get so excited when doing my experiments. I’ll ask Jade to assist with this when she comes to visit next week, she’s gotta know how to get the tints right once it’s boiled down. In the meantime, have some cheating, ok?”

     Rose started at that, staring at Feferi incomprehensibly. “You’re not going to be here in a week, are you?”

     Aradia glanced at her, taking in the blank stare that accompanied the words. “I think that falls under ‘shit we don’t yet know because the stars haven’t told the rest of us,” she offered. Rose blinked and her eyes went back to their usual liveliness.

     “Oh. Well. That would certainly explain a lot then. Did you happen to receive anything from your mother today, Feferi? A letter, a note, mayhap even a message?”  
A cold trickling feeling began to creep down Aradia’s neck. She was no stranger to the gods Rose served, having almost gone into the service herself with Feferi, both bearing more than a spark of power. By the way her princess straightened she rather suspected that Feferi could also feel a touch of fate. The feeling stayed there during the evening meal, growing dense and sharp as it traced her spine and settled deep in her gut as she and Feferi read the nearly-forgotten letter at last by lamplight. A short missive but regardless hard to miss as being anything but a summons, as surely as Feferi had called to her hand a bottle of tint:

_Feferi –_

_Your sister’s Ceremony of Investiture happens in three days. Be there._

H.I.M., C.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     Packing took place in a blur, with Feferi anxiously pacing and directing servants who already knew what to do but nonetheless took their mistress’s orders in stride. Rose sent word to Jade, who was already en route from their capitol, to meet them at the unnamed troll city that served as the Imperial headquarters, the seat of culture and learning and government.

     It was a seat that neither maid nor mistress had seen in six sweeps, since they were 13.

     “Why do I even have to BE there?? I’m the spare, who gives a fuck!” Feferi spat as they headed out. She was in a rare truly foul temper as they got into an open topped carriage in the main courtyard. Two other carriages lined up behind them with two carts for luggage; a small retinue for someone who carried the top blood of the empire. Feferi had insisted that only the most essential of her Court needed to accompany her and was firm in her bad temper.  
Rose was coming along because Feferi did not dare say no to her mother or an Emissary, however close she was to being one herself. Nor was she able to prevent the humans from claiming the seats next to one Kanaya Maryam.

     “Fef,” began Aradia as the carriages were being loaded, “You need to chill. Like, now. Five minutes ago as a matter of fact! We’ve got two day’s riding ahead of us and you’re determined to make people miserable. We get it, alright? You think we want to go godsbedamned gallivanting off a cliff into a pile of frothy lace that calls itself fancypants seadwelllers? What the hell’s gotten into you?”

     “You know how I feel about them! I never asked to be a princess or get special treatment, and they would either treat me like less than dirt for not being Meenah, or start asking me how I planned to assassinate her when I came of age in order to get what she has!” At that point she threw her arms up dramatically. Her slippered feet tapped staccato-sharp against the carpeted floor of the carriage cab, jiggling the string of pearls in steady time.

     “Yeah. I know. They expected me to come from behind and help with the backstabbing. Didn’t one want me to hold her down and you wield your trident? We were getting pretty specific messages towards the end.”

     A snort at that, more fiddling with the string of blush pearls that connected to a well-loved pair of stained glass spectacles. “It all boils down to, why why why? Why two princesses, Aradia? Since when do two Peixes exist at once, in one generation? And why should I have to answer to that?”

     Aradia reached over to her at that, gripping Feferi’shorns tightly as she looked her princess straight in the eyes. “Since when are there two Megidos, after all? We weren’t coincidence, Fef. We happened, and here we are. We’ve got to believe we have reason, even if that reason is our Court and ourselves. Alright?”

     A reluctant nod was the answer, but it was enough, and broke the spell of bad temperament that had been wrought by the witch-princess, still toying with her pearls. Other carriages came alive with talk and at times laughter, as departure neared. Finally, all was ready and the order to move out was given. Feferi leaned out the side as they neared the gate to their beloved Court, and as they passed through, the well-loved string with its well-loved spectacles gave way at last, falling with a clatter to the dusty road. Feferi reached but was too slow, Aradia stared in shock, as the horses behind them continued forward and swiftly trampled the glass underhoof. Travel didn’t cease and it was only seen for a moment, and only by the pair, but it was enough. The two locked eyes in understanding.  
Little talking happened between the pair for the rest of an otherwise uneventful journey.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     Aradia remembered all of the day and made sure to write events down. She is not one to be accused of shirking her duties. She wasn’t sure if not remembering the last detail counted, but decided it might, so down it went, in a cache of notes, what happens when the flame goes higher and chaos distilled from ether.  
The setup takes place without Aradia overseeing details, for the first time in years. Her duties were to the Second Princess as Mistress of the robes, which in a palace full of housekeepers and courtiers meant she herded around courtiers and wrote love letters. There was nothing to arrange in the ceremony itself.  
As ceremonies go it was a grand affair; bards performed, feasting happened on long thin tables, servants made the rounds to whisk away any stray crumbs of food or bring it fresh. This led into leaders intonating, ambassadors making toasts, and not one but two pairs of tyrian princesses with their faithful rust attendants in the spotlight. Only one pair stood at the golden gilded dais, before them standing the Emissary in her ashen robes and the full Highness Empress, Blessed Be Her Name, Adherent To The Figures, Hailant Of The Bespoken, Wisdom of the Sun.

     The Imperial Princess Meenah, Sagacious Serendipity, Light Of The Waves, Fire Of The Heart and Hearth, is focused. Not on the Emissary, exactly. She paid attention and nodded at almost all the right times, but also evaluated her younger sister. The wiggler found an unprecedented four years after she herself was taken into her mother’s care and rearing.

     Sagacious Serendipity is asked if she accepts this duty, and she does not. Quick as a flash the ceremonial knife is out of the Emissary’s hands and in Meenah’s own, and the only thing moving in the hall is Meenah’s hair, as long and lush as Feferi’s own, and only barely tamed in the two twisted braids caught in a mesh on either side of her face.

     They made an audible thump as they hit the ground, gilt-bound hair on the gilt dais, as Meenah announced her abdication.  
The next minutes were mayhem, with the royal guards keeping back everyone as the Most Royal Imperial Highness dragged both her spawn by the gills to the small antechamber used by the royal family to get ready prior to events. Both were released and evaluated under a withering stare.

     “You,” says the Majesty, as she pointed to Feferi. The rust bloods lined the wall, ready to advise or intervene as necessary. “Did you know about this? Clearly shit was planned from the start, when she was the one to insist you even be here.”

    “Sure didn’t,” Aradia’s princess replied. _Shoooooooooore_ did not, heard Aradia.

     “You broke your fucking promises, your word, your birthright,” said the Empress to Meenah. The accusing finger shook in her face: bad princess, princess no, not inside the palace, princess.

     Meenah stirred at that. “I didn’t break a promise, alright?” she muttered. Speaking louder, she continued, hands finally removed from the pockets she must have insisted be included in her dress. Feferi always fought for pockets in her dresses until Kanaya came along and began adding them as the default.

     “I broke off before swearing anything, so don’t you dare judge me, got it? I may have wanted to make a flash but this was always just assumed, ok? Why the hell should I be the one on the throne?” She looked upset and belligerent. Damara said nothing, Aradia’s mother was calculating. The Empress was not done.

     “You’re through,” she said. The accusing finger blossomed into fuschia nails that ripped the last remnant of golden netting from Meenah’s tousled curls. “You hear me? You’re not getting a copper denarius, not after this stunt. Only thing you get from me is the right to wear tyrian and that’s only because I can’t fucking well take that from your blood.” From a lesser woman, the words might have been spat, or hissed through clenched teeth. The cool composure of the Empress chilled Aradia more than yelling or hitting a wall might have, with fins tucked neatly flat against her cheekbones and spine not budging an inch.

     Meenah stood her ground and looked her mother in the eyes. “I figured. I’m not gonna be some boohoo destitute relation you need to hide away. I’m out of here. I’ve spent the past few years investing in shit and it’s time I fucking looked in on them. After today I’m getting on a caravan east and you can forget I even exist.”  
The Empress swiftly turned back to Feferi and evaluated her, turned her back on Meenah. Fef kept her fins every bit as stock-still as her mother and Aradia saw both their faces now as adults, the lines of cheek and nose so alike as to be a mockery in their beauty and tension.

     “For now, we need a goddamn ceremony. Got all those people waiting for it and all,” muses the Empress. Sharp tyrian eyes, no less cutting for the lack of their earlier heat, take in unbound hair, well made clothing and expensive pearls scattered about Feferi’s person. “I need an answer now. You planning on not flying the fucking coop here like your spoiled bitch of a sister?”

     A moment passed, one where Aradia knew that Feferi felt the weight of far-off gods every bit as clearly as she herself, and the youngest Peixes shook her head at last, a sharp, jerky movement.

     “Come on. The Emissary will lead you through it. We’ll just have to do the actual schooling on being Heiress after the fact, is all.”  
At the end of a long hall filled with lines of people, trolls came to view and pay homage to Aradia’s princess as the Emissary finished with calling out her titles to the waiting throng: The Most Royal Imperial Highness, She Of Ocean Stars, Keeper Of The Emissaries, Princess Designate To The Tyrian Throne.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Woohoo! This was a blast to write. Everything needs dramatic aristocracy aus, always.
> 
> EDIT: Now that the reveal has happened, I feel like I should let people know my tumblr is formerlyanon. Thanks for reading and hope you had a happy ladystuck!


End file.
